Like Suicide
by hell rings
Summary: Once he turned around, he saw his brother sitting on the ground lapping up the rivulets blood from his wrist. The taste of royalty - it was so deliciously bittersweet. "Is it that good, brother? Should I try some?"


Doesn't follow the _exact _story about Bel and Rasiel/Jill/whatever you want to call him. But I added little explanations that were fun to come up with. 8D

**Disclaimer**: Characters? Akira Amano. Plot? Me.

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**Like Suicide**

_Jack fell down and broke his crown  
And Jill came tumbling after_

They were a vicious pair - striped arms linked together, razor sharp knives and Cheshire smiles flying in every direction. The young princes' blades swung in unison on the target, its stomach ripping open with a satisfying sound. Music. Their frightening laughter chilled the ghosted kingdom with no name.

Rasiel and Belphegor.

They were the King and Queen's prize. Not only were they blessed to have one beautiful child, but they received two. The children were the one and the same; identical blonde hair, smiling mouth, and eyes. The orbs were a pooling silver, as cold as the distant moon. The King and Queen loved the twins and gave them the world, just as long as they would take it as their own.

Rasiel, the first born son by two minutes, was to be king.

A king wasn't expected to play the lesser role. No - they were the most important part of the court; crucial to the game. Belphegor knew he played the part of nothing but a prince. Unless an accident occurred, he would never be anything more. An unfortunate thing, it was. The young prince was _so_ close - ever so close - to being the heir to the throne. But Rasiel, however, was there to claim it first.

But he _thought_ he loved Rasiel, and he _thought_ Rasiel loved him. No one saw one child without the other - inseparable; the very idea itself was ridiculous. The boys were the same poor soul, trapped in two synonymous bodies. But it wasn't long before the King and Queen had began noticing changes in their children's behaviour; something dark and sadistic. Their once bright smiles turning into smirks, and their glee of laughing at death. Were they not paying enough attention to them? Were they terrible parents?

What had gone wrong?

The King frowned at the boys. The same pleading face - _"Please, a challenge!"_ - had deceived him before. He knew better, and sent them away to play in the gardens. Hide and Seek was their favourite game, after all.

The princes loved the garden. It was an immaculate maze with radiant flowers, life-like statues, and marble fountains. Winding paths took them down to several small ponds, where the fireflies gathered, with bridges over each one. They spent hours everyday, often times climbing the towering trees and jumping out when someone was a fool enough to pass by. It was their domain, and many times they would skip their lessons to play.

"Bel," Rasiel asked, leaning against a priceless statue of their father. "Instead of Hide and Seek today, why don't we spar?" The circlet of silver on his golden mop of hair that proclaimed he was to be king leaned to the side of his head, threatening to fall off.

The younger twin swung down from the tree limb was on, the boy grinning. "Sounds like fun, _insect_."

"I told you to quit calling me that! I gave you a good nick name," Rasiel growled, chipping away at the side of the marble. "Anyways, maybe if we show father how good we are, he'll set us loose on the commoners." The blonde snickered to himself. He would show them that he was the best. Rasiel the King, the Victor, the _Winner_.

"I would like to see their life drip away," Belphegor agreed offhandedly, and picked up a shard of it that fell to the ground, next to his foot.

"You make the strangest comments, sometimes." Rasiel frowned at his twin, but then grabbed the fragment of the important statue. "Here's how we play; aim and throw," The older twin grinned cruelly at his younger brother. "I'm going to be king, so I go first..."

Rasiel and Belphegor stared in wonder as crimson flowered on Belphegor's side, staining the white button up shirt the awful colour. The edge of the marble had been jagged, and sliced a small part of the prince's skin. They watched as it dribbled innocently onto the ground, splattering into beads.  
Belphegor wiped some of the blood onto his finger, licking some of it up and smiled to his older brother. Their silver eyes met, and the twins jumped back from each other.

"What does it taste like, Bel?" Rasiel asked, eyes wide in anticipation and leaning forward on his toes.

Belphegor snickered to himself. "It tastes like royalty, _Jill_." He tossed the stone in his hand up and down, catching it easily. He was a prince, after all, and princes were _perfect_.

"What?" Rasiel asked, "Why did you call me that?" He hesitantly began trying to chip off another piece of the statue, their father's watchful eyes locked on the boys.

The younger twin's snickering became a howl of laughter. "Because, dear Jill, I'm going to give you a little _push_," Belphegor answered, inching closer to his double. Rasiel stopped scraping the stone and took several steps back. "I'm going to give you a little push, and you are going to fall down and never get back up."

Rasiel always thought Belphegor was a bit odd, but something was even more off about him today. The look in his eyes was twisted - _so much like the surging storm_ - had scared him. He turned on his heel and raced to the castle. They should be in the kitchen...

_Their mother once sang the nursery rhyme to them._

"Get out!" Rasiel shouted to the chef and maids that were preparing a multiple course meal for the court. "Leave this room or I'll have every single one of your heads!" They looked at the prince, wondering where his clone was. The twins were _always_ together.

Rasiel screamed at them again, and started yanking random counter drawers open. "Where are the knives?! Everyone, get out!" He forced open another drawer, and silverware flew out of it. He fell back with a surprised yelp, his tiara toppling off. Rasiel's hand reached for one of the steak knives, and he picked himself up, pointing the knife to the servants. "I'll tell you one more time. Exit this room. _Now_." Upon seeing the weapon in his hand, everyone froze, but then quickly hurried to their master's throne room.

Belphegor easily pushed the swinging doors to the kitchen open, furiously giggling. "Hide and Seek is my favourite game," he laughed, watching his brother flinch. He saw a flash of metal shine in his twin's hand, and cocked his head. "Oh? So you found a blade in here, have you? I brought my own." He pulled out a fan of throwing knives, each one dangerously curved. "At least you plan on putting up a fight. It would be terribly boring otherwise."

Rasiel growled at the younger prince. "What is wrong with you?! You were fine yesterday! What's with the sudden change?!"

Belphegor's eyes flashed, his mood quickly changing. "_I_ should be king! I'm better than you! What are two minutes compared to everything else?!" He screamed, throwing one of the knives at his brother, the projectile embedding itself to the blonde's stomach.

Rasiel cried out, dropping his own knife and hastily pulled the other one out of his abdomen. He held his hand to the wound, trying to stop the blood flow. "Do you really hate me so? Enough to kill me, all to inherit the throne?" He asked weakly.

"No," Belphegor said softly. "Why would you think that, Jill?" He stepped lightly to Rasiel; arms out in a caring gesture, as if he was going to give him a hug.

His brother coughed, spitting blood at his brother's heel, and roughly pushed his arms away. "Don't touch me." Rasiel was about to reach down and grab his knife again, but was tackled to the ground, the back of his head hitting the tiles, hard.

The younger blonde was sitting on him, glaring, a knife to Rasiel's throat. "You are nothing but an _insect_ - insignificant and worthless. I will take the time to squish you down to nothing." The prince slid the knife down Rasiel's chest, ripping open his black shirt. "You will look so much better with cuts. I'll deal with you nicely..."

Rasiel squirmed as Belphegor worked, each laceration digging deeper. "Please, Bel! Stop! _Stop!_" His twin ignored him, only cleaving into his flesh harder. His arm reached to the steak knife, his fingers touching the handle of it. Rasiel pushed up and bent to the side a bit, trying to forget his crazed brother on top of him, finally getting a hold on the blade. He grit his teeth, slashed Belphegor on the wrist, and wrestled from under him. The pool of blood steadily grew, staining everything around them red.

Rasiel dashed to the pile of silverware - a trial of crimson following him - and grabbed another knife. Once he turned around, he saw his brother sitting on the ground lapping up the rivulets blood from his wrist. To his own surprise, Rasiel suddenly found himself laughing hysterically with Belphegor, disregarding the incredible pain he was in. He had no idea what was so funny - perhaps the loss of blood? He fell to his knees, and ran a finger along one of the gashes.

"Is it that good, brother? Should I try some?" The words were heavy on his tongue, but before he even received an answer, the appendage was in his mouth. The taste of royalty - it was so deliciously bittersweet. He could see Belphegor throwing his knives at aimless things from the corner of his pale eyes, purposefully missing his benumbed self-half. What was the point of that? If he was going to kill him, wasting your resources was certainly unwise. He giggled to himself, and stood up, the kitchen knives ready. His drunken pace was quick, but Belphegor paid no mind.

Rasiel skidded a few feet in front of his brother and grinned, his teeth painted a brilliant crimson. "You were never fit to be king, but I am. You've made me realize that you're the only thing in my way," he sang, pointing one of his blades to Belphegor's throat. "I'm going to send you a place far, _far_ away, to a place you'll never return."

The boy in front of him shrugged and threw his last knife right beside his brother's foot. "I dare you," he said simply, and slowly raised his arms.

Rasiel cocked his head to the side in question, but winced when his cheek sliced open. He froze in place, watching the vital fluid creep down a remarkably thin wire connected to the knife his twin had set only seconds before. "What?" He breathed out, his voice hitching. "You're using wires?" He was so close to finally beating him! Just one chance to break through his brother's heartless chest!

Belphegor snickered to himself, "Your shoulders are much too weak to carry the weight of the crown. This time, Jill, _I'm_ the winner." The young prince thrust his hands down, the razor sharp wires ripping open Rasiel's abused skin. The blood trenched rivers to the messy floor, and the older blonde fell in a crumpled heap.

"_And Jill came tumbling after_," the boy purred, stepping over his dying brother. "I'll be sure to send Olgelt to bury you," he said, grabbing a knife that Rasiel - _Jill_ - had intended on using. He cut the wires slack, danced to the accumulation of silverware, and picked up the nearly forgotten tiara. He placed it on his mop of hair, and erupted in a fit of laughter.

"I'm the king!" He whispered to himself, licking the remains of any blood on his lips. "I'm the _winner_!"

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_"Belphegor, why would you do this?" They wailed, holding their heir's broken frame. "Why?!" _

The boy grinned. "I mistook him for a cockroach."

The prince sat on the window sill of his plush room - the doors tightly locked from the outside - watching the chirping birds outside. They had no idea of the turmoil brewing in the castle walls.

The King and Queen were devastated at the loss of their son, and confined the murderer to his chambers. They were torn at what to do with the child, and asked what would make him happiest. He brightly told them that they should let him loose on the commoners, to see their life drip away. The Queen broke down sobbing again, and the King shook his head and led her away.

The leader of the Varia, Xanxus, was in the palace the next day. He took the young prince far, _far_ away. They traveled to Italy, and Belphegor was thrilled to join the older man so he could kill as many 'commoners' as he wanted.

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A 26 year old Belphegor stood in front of his very much alive brother. Mammon's replacement, Fran, shifted his weight and darkly muttered something to himself. More than likely, it was something about _another_ psychopathic member of the court to deal with.

Bephegor was practically jumping in excitement. Another chance to kill him? To exterminate the insect? To taste the blood of the royal clan? He gathered the fan of throwing knives in his hands - his favourites ones; the ones that supposedly killed his brother.

"Why are you still alive, Jill?" The blonde prince asked, an infamous rabid smile gracing his features. He was leaning forward on his toes, anticipation gleaming in his eyes that were now covered by his curtain of hair.

A sneer flashed on Rasiel's face. "I'm here to break your crown, _Jack_."


End file.
